


STOP*GAP

by prettybrilliantfunny



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 07:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettybrilliantfunny/pseuds/prettybrilliantfunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Pacific Rim AU]</p><p>It's been three years since the first kaiju attacked San Francisco.  The Jaegers have done their job, but the two-pilot program is being fazed out. Admiral Pike and his crew have been entrusted with the development and activation of the Fleet Initiative: smaller, faster robots operated by single pilots, working in tandem to fight. But the new wave is far from finished, and testing them has already killed one pilot.</p><p>So when an accident leaves Jim Kirk without a co-pilot for River Side, one of the last remaining Jaegers - another drift-compatible pilot must be found - and quickly - to protect the Fleet prototypes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	STOP*GAP

* * *

 

Everyone knows the story. 

The kaiju came, clawing their way out of our own damn ocean, and humanity did what it’s always done: it adapted.

This wasn’t an act of god; this was an invasion.  They thought we’d go down easy, but monsters could be fought; and if there was one thing our species was good at—it was warfare.

We built giant robots called Jaegers—walking arsenals that took two pilots to operate.  The world united behind their own metal monsters, and drove the kaiju back.

The Jaegers did their job; controlling the first wave of kaiju before the world even knew what they were really fighting, but they also destroyed half the cities they’d been sent out to protect. 

After three years, the world leaders called for a change.  The Fleet Initiative. 

In the opinion of the UN, the Jaegers were a stopgap measure that had outlived its purpose.  The two-pilot system was effective, but hardly efficient, and it was getting harder and harder to find competent pilots that were drift-compatible.  The path of weapons advancement has always been: better, sleeker, and more of them than the other guy. 

Only, in this case, the other guy was a 200-foot monster from another dimension.

 

  

The rules of engagement didn’t exactly apply anymore.

 

 

<<<  |  >>> 

 **Year 4 of the Kaiju War**  

<<<  |  >>>

 

  

_{RIVER SIDE.  PREPARE FOR DEPLOYMENT.  RIVER SIDE TO BAY 6}_

“SPOCK! Wake up, stiff!  We’re rolling out.”

Jim raced along Spock’s bunk, banging on the frame.  He needn’t have bothered; Spock was already awake.  He levered himself calmly out of bed, watching with a raised eyebrow as Jim danced about their barracks attempting to walk and put his boots on at the same time.

“I question Admiral Pike’s decision to put you anywhere near a Jaeger,” he commented, dryly.

Jim, however, was halfway out the door.  “Enough sweet talk, dude—we’re late!”

It wasn’t a particularly long process, but even streamlined as they were, it was still another twelve minutes before the two men were stepping onto the command deck of their Jaeger.  River Side.  A Mark 2 – top of the line and beautiful as hell; built right up in Jim’s home state.

Scotty’s voice echoed in the cockpit.  _{Strap in lads.  Admiral Pike on deck.}_

Jim took his usual spot on the left; Spock, the right.  They stepped into the locking clamps and the harnesses curled around them like old friends.

“Ready to engage the drift,” declared Spock, leaning back.

“Ok, now, in my defense – I was woken up pretty abruptly...” Jim pointed a warning finger in Spock’s direction and then at his own head.  “So…no comments.”

Spock’s long-suffering sigh was the last thing Jim heard before he slipped into the drift.

_{The neural handshake is 5 by 5.  Looking good boys.}_

Jim smirked, flipping primers overhead for the Jaeger’s starting sequence.  “Whaddya got for us today, Scotty?”

 _{Code name: Bonedigger}_ Scotty relayed from mission control.  _{Category 3 – aye, but she’s a doozy.  Armored spine, prehensile tale—keep an eye out for that one, boys.}_

“Acknowledged,” said Spock from Jim’s right.  “River Side start sequence initiated. Ready to deploy in sixty seconds.”

“Number seven, Spock,” Jim crowed; it was an almost unheard of number – most of the Mark 1’s and 2’s were scrapped or decommissioned after only a handful of runs.  “Gotta be lucky.”

“On what basis?”

“Y’know – lucky number seven!”

Spock’s skepticism was palpable.  Dialing in the final sequence, he hit the comms. “On your signal, Mr. Scott.”

“Spoilsport.”

<<<  |  >>>

 

San Francisco had been the first major city destroyed in what became known as the Kaiju War.  Six days and thirty-five miles of complete destruction.  The UN declared the city and miles of coastline on either side be quarantined and left to crumble into the Pacific.  _Uninhabitable_ , they said.

Historically speaking, they should have known better: the Americans didn’t respond well to being told they couldn’t do something.

They rebuilt the city.  Scrap metal and kaiju bones, anything they could get their hands on went into the recovery effort.  In two years and against all odds, the PPDC split its Jaeger program in North America; the heavy artillery remained in Alaska guarding the breach, and the research division was moved to San Francisco under Admiral Pike.

River Side was the only Jaeger on base at full op; it was why she’d seen so many runs for an original Mark 2.  It was rare for a kaiju to head south of the breach and not turn towards Asia, but when it did – Jim and Spock took it down hard.

“No visual yet on Big D,” Jim relayed – and was fairly certain he could feel Pike’s disapproval through the comm line.  He grinned.  River Side was sloughing through the ocean like it was air, coral and rock pulverized beneath its heavy footsteps.

_{It’s there alright.  Approaching from the North—at speed.}_

River Side turned North, bringing its arms up in a combat-ready stance.  And then, against all standard protocol, started running.

The kaiju had only half-surfaced when River Side crashed into it with jarring force.  They rode it down into the seabed, Jim’s whoop of excitement echoing all the way down.  They landed two solid blows – the ocean rushing back in around their impact – before being thrown off.

River Side bounced like a stone across the surface, but Spock kept them centered – his razor-edged focus on the gyroscope.  He threw out an arm and River tumbled back onto its feet, pulling drag off the water.  Both pilots re-oriented themselves, and charged again, throwing punches.  They butted heads, neither able to get an advantage—and while they grappled with the kaiju they were struck hard and fast from behind. 

“What the fu—“ Jim was slammed forward in his harness.  “Flares!”

The shoulder plating retracted immediately under Spock’s quick command.  Another blow to the back of River’s head shot sparks into the cockpit and across Jim’s vision before the flares deployed.  Fifty scatter shots bounced off the kaiju’s face, exploded into one another mid-air, and filled the sky with dense gray smoke.  Disoriented, the kaiju let go and River Side jumped back.

_{You forgot about the wee tail dinnit ya?}_

Jim swore under his breath. 

“Shut up, Scotty.”

The tail caught them across the chest and River Side was knocked off-balance, stumbling back.  It was fast.  The clubbed end struck them across the right knee, venting coolant into surf.  Spock grunted in pain, but kept the leg from going cold.

“Goddamnit,” Jim yelled – blocking the viper-like jabs one, twice; all the while losing ground.  And then the club opened, like a goddamned extra hand.  It grabbed River by the head and hauled it from the water.

For a fraction of a second, River Side was held upside-down in suspension over the churning ocean.

“Brace yourself!” Spock warned—and then they were spiked downwards.  River Side hit the surface like it was a slab of concrete.

Damage counters welled up on all screens; yellow light flooding the cockpit as the systems went into first alert.  Everything felt slow to respond.  “Come on, _come on!_ ” Jim gritted out.  He and Spock forced River to its knees, and then to lift its head.

Bonedigger charged, eating up the distance between them in a crash of waves.  River Side’s hands clenched into fists, but it was still on its knees.  Closer and closer the kaiju came, proximity scanners blaring across their console, bearing down fast.  It bellowed – savage and victorious – and leapt.

“NOW!”

River Side shot to its feet, its massive arms ratcheting up in a stunning display of speed.  They caught it in the air – all 2,000 tons of it – and slammed it back down into the ocean.  Water exploded outward in every direction.

“Let’s pop the cork on this sonofabitch,” snapped Jim.

“Agreed,” Spock relayed and the right leg kicked down, pinning the kaiju beneath the Jaeger’s foot.

In synch, they both reached out, clutched empty air into their fists, and _twisted_.  Their Jaeger squeezed tight enough to puncture flesh, ammonia dribbling out over the finger casings, and then the tail was ripped from Bonedigger’s body and flung aside.

The kaiju shrieked, and the Jaeger was knocked off as it lashed out.  It was a wild, uncoordinated attack—but every blow it landed hit like a ton of bricks.  Grabbing hold of its plated head, they wrenched it to the side, but it twisted and sunk its teeth into their hand—it was either let go, or lose fingers.

They blocked a downward swipe, but another hit glanced off the faceplate and River keened short and high before its visual field shorted.

“We can’t see a damn thing, Admiral—“

“—switching to read-outs—“

River Side’s bulkhead crumpled inward like tin-foil, and then it simply wasn’t there at all.  Ocean spray barreled into the exposed cockpit, a full third of its outer wall carved clear away.

“Command has been breached!” Jim shouted into the comm.  “Get us air support _now!_ ”

 _{Strike force is inbound}_ Pike’s voice sounded a million miles away; distorted by damaged circuits and the roar of wind through the rig. _{They are still 8 minutes from your position.  You will detain the kaiju at all costs.}_

“Acknowledged,” Spock confirmed.  Jim shot him a look across the control panel that Spock met with his standard implacable expression.  It didn’t matter; Jim could slip into his mind like turning a page.

They lifted their right hands together.  “Let’s do this and get home,” said Jim.

Spock nodded.  “Plasma cannon charging.”

_{It’s circled back! 3 o’clock!}_

“We see it Scotty!”

Bonedigger had resurfaced just off River’s shoulder.  Their visual field might have been fried, but through the gaping breach of their cockpit there was no missing it; massive and ugly as hell.  They turned, bringing up their left arm just in time.  It leapt; serrated claws shearing away panels from the metal of their forearm—but even as Jim gritted his teeth against the assault on his hemisphere, Spock was already reacting to numbers and angles Jim could never follow, but somehow always understood.

Spock brought up the right knee, driving it hard into Bonedigger’s soft underbelly.  It held it’s ground, but gave Jim slack enough to twist his arm free.  The kaiju was still gripping empty air when the blade deployed from the wrist hinge.  In a swift jerk to center smooth titanium separated claw from wrist.

Its howl of rage shook River Side, and it flailed in anguish—Jim didn’t even have time to shout, but Spock was ready.  Both arms came up over the open faceplate as ammonia-thick blood sprayed hot and blue from the kaiju’s amputated arm. 

“That was too close,” Spock informed him, his mild tone tinged with adrenaline.

“Admiral!”

_{Three minutes, Kirk.}_

“Three minutes is a long time, sir,” Jim bit out.  River’s left arm, cleaved and battered was losing circuits to the seep of ammonia blood; he could feel it losing strength.

“Cannon primed.”

“Fire!”

The discharge rocked them both back, but Jim was a brawler.  Before the kaiju could retreat, he slammed his fist against the side of its face.  It gnashed terribly at them and Jim grappled with its open maw, wrenching it back into Spock’s line of fire.  Its one remaining hand scrabbled down River’s front, tearing off great hunks of metallic body searching for purchase

“Again!”

The whir of the cannon was deafening without the protection of the hull.  Blue plasma exploded into the kaiju’s chest, crackling white outward across its torn flesh.  Its roar nearly brought Jim to his knees but he held on; fingers struggling to maintain their tension around Bonedigger’s plated neck.

Red exploded across their displays.  Every circuit was blaring a warning; bright and jarring.  The kaiju had found a grip.

“Holy shi—“ Claws punched through the ceiling of the cockpit.  Spock yelled something but coolant was venting into the hold. 

“Disengage!”

Iron shrieked under the onslaught, razored claw tips descending down over Spock’s lock-in terminal.  Jim forced the left arm into action, knowing Spock’s response before he even heard the stubborn “negative!” over the din.  He grabbed the kaiju’s arm—fighting to keep it from lobotomizing River Side and taking Spock with it.

“DISENGAGE!”

Jim couldn’t hold it off for long; the left arm was too damaged.  His view screen was running red with numbers—all of them dropping exponentially.

Spock fired again; the cockpit flooding with the backdraft of plasma heat.  Bonedigger held on, and Jim roared under the strain as it fought River’s failing strength.  Pain lanced through him—white-hot and jagged—and it wasn’t his.

“Spock!?”

Jim tasted blood in the back of his mouth and looked right.  One of the kaiju’s claws had pierced the shoulder-plating of Spock’s flightsuit. 

If the left arm failed, Spock would die. 

“Re-routing power!”

He pulled the plug on the lower legs, bypassing a dozen safety valves to funnel it all into the left arm.  River Side fell to its knees, but Jim road out the fall, holding the kaiju at bay as Spock recharged.  But it was like trying to save a leaking ship.  The left arm was losing power quicker than Jim could re-route it—fuel and oil dripping from every hinge.  The strain was too much.

Amidst the cacophony, it was such a small sound: the pop of a hundred pistons snapping in sequence. 

River’s left arm went cold and Spock fired.  Again, and again, and again.

He emptied the entire clip.  Screaming.

Without resistance, the kaiju’s claw had torn down to bone, a jagged path from shoulder to hip.  Spock’s blood was everywhere—bright, scarlet, and shining in the sun as the kaiju fell away.

“ _SPOCK!_ ”

The pain was unbearable.  It seared the edges of Jim’s vision until he was almost blinded by the white-hot agony of it.  He tried to pull out of alignment, to rabbit-hole – anything to disengage the neural bridge. 

But the screaming didn’t stop. 

“ _SPOOOOCK!_ ”

They were drift-locked.

 

 

 

 

They say drift-pilots are a liability. 

_Maybe they’re right._

 

<<<  |  >>>


End file.
